


look at you, strawberry blond

by himbodad



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Human Disaster Fitzroy Maplecourt, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Real World Mission, Spoilers through Episode 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23749210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himbodad/pseuds/himbodad
Summary: Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt and his fellow Thundermen are embarking on a real world mission. Now if only he could figure out how to not act like a complete imbecile in front of Argo, who he's beginning to find himself quite in love with...
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 15
Kudos: 60





	look at you, strawberry blond

**Author's Note:**

> This is as canon compliant as possible through episode 12 of TAZ:Graduation. Maplekeene is the greatest thing in my life currently, and I was possessed by the spirit of Fitzroy Maplecourt to write this fic. I could probably continue this, but I'm trying not to be too ambitious for my first real fic. Hope y'all like it!

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, knight in absentia to the realm of Goodcastle, former attendee of Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School, current student at Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s School for Heroism and Villainy, is tired. He is tired of many things, to be frank. He is tired of the lack of sweet crepes that is so often seen at breakfast. He is tired of trying to keep secret the fact that the head of Hieronymous Wiggenstaff’s School for Heroism and Villainy, Hieronymous Wiggenstaff, has been a dog in his brother Higglemas’s lap for the past half century. And currently, he is tired of Groundsy the Groundskeeper. 

“Hey kids! It’s me, Groundsy!” The aforementioned man bellows. Fitzroy internally groans. Externally, he maintains his signature posh composure and channels his inner rage at his surroundings into a tiny cough. 

“Yes, we know who you are by now.” Fitzroy complains.

“Groundsy! I haven’t seen you in so long! Say, are we still not allowed in that, that hut of yours? I’m, oh man, I’m really itching to break me off a piece of that.” Argo Keene says. He’s striding up beside Fitzroy, full of roguish charm as always. His long, blue hair is tousled to the point that it looks like he just rolled out of bed. He had done so. In fact, Fitzroy had never seen a single hairbrush in either of the dorms that Argo has occupied this school year. Only his own, specially made with the emblem of Goodcastle carved into the end of it. 

“Indeed. I am… full of excitement. Great journey is on the way. Groundsy’s hut is final exam.” The Firbolg chimes in. Groundsy seems incredibly concerned, as though he genuinely believes that Doctor Mushrooms/Firby/Master Firbolg/Bud/Fitzroy 2/Fiscal Responsibility thinks gaining access to his place of residence is part of his finals. “That is… a joke. I know that is not how exam works. Accounting skill is not shown by breaking and entering.”

Groundsy lets out a sigh of relief. The Firbolg begins heartily chuckling, which his two companions join in on. The groundskeeper does not. He reaches into his left pocket to confirm that his set of keys for his hut is still safe. The water genasi, Keene, is a rogue, and he’s been training on how to pick locks and the like with Jackle. That guy still gives Groundsy the creeps, even after all the time they’ve worked together. 

“Hop on in!” The Thundermen make their way into Groundsy’s cart. The Firbolg enters first, his large frame taking up a majority of the space on the tiny bench. Argo hops in next, leaving Fitzroy standing disgusted. The cart is just tall enough that he cannot feasibly get into it without launching himself into it, which does not align with his fanciful sensibilities. 

Argo, catching sight of this pathetic excuse for a barbarian, jumps out of the cart and places his foot against the edge of it. He offers his hand, which Fitzroy begrudgingly accepts. With a heave, he helps his fancy friend into the back of Groundsy’s vehicle. Fitzroy takes a seat on the bench as close to the edge as possible. As Argo squeezes himself in between the Firbolg and Fitzroy, Groundsy kicks it into gear and the crew takes off down the road.

“You boys ready for your real world mission?” Groundsy calls back over the loud rumbling of wheels over cobblestone. Fitzroy is bouncing with each bump, nearly falling out of the moving vehicle at one point. Generously, Argo offers his arm for the knight (in absentia) to hold on to. 

“I don’t need your help, Argo. And I am no boy. We are the Thundermen, are we not?” Despite his statement, Fitzroy does indeed link his arm with Argo’s. A wise decision, because as the kind and benevolent narrator will let you know right now, he most certainly would have fallen into the road if he had not done so. 

“Speaking of the whole, Thundermen business, Fitzy, I’d just like to mention one more time that I really would appreciate having a larger role within the company-”

“You have plenty of a role already, do you not?”

“I really don’t, Fitzroy! You’re the, uh, CEO, and didn’t you say that the Firbolg was your CFO?”

“Why yes, he is. He’s the only one of us who knows anything about accounting!” Fitzroy replies haughtily. 

“The bottom line… is key to all aspects of a person’s life. Without it, we are nothing.”

“Very nice, Firby.” Argo says, sarcastically. “Say, you got any other fun facts for us?”

“Yes… the inventor of bubblegum… he was an accountant. Very noble profession.” The Firbolg comments, which seems to bring Fitzroy a great deal of excitement. 

The hot mint gum that Argo had given to him the night before was quickly devoured. Although Fitzroy would never admit it, he missed his family far more than he had expected. He wanted above all to achieve his own goals. He tries his best not to care about anyone else.

But he does. Deep down inside, beneath all the fancy cloaks and brooches, Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt cares. He cares what people think of him, he cares about other people. His parents used to be the only people on his short list of loved ones. Even if they aren’t the models of the life that he wants more than anything to lead, he loves them deep down inside. Now, though he loathes the thought of it, he loves the Firbolg and Argonaut Keene. 

Particularly Argo. He’s beginning to love him in a… different way. Not love! Not just yet. But he’s certainly on his way there. When he wakes in the mornings, the first thing he does (after carefully combing through his hair and spending at least ten minutes repeating affirmations in the mirror) is go to the Firbolg and Argo’s chambers. He maintains to them the fact that it’s because he wants to keep a close eye on his sidekicks. It’s mainly because he wants to keep a close eye on Argo. Certain parts of him in particular. 

Fitzroy doesn’t just value Argo for his rugged handsomeness and distracting body. He finds himself daydreaming of kissing the water genasi after he makes a particularly good save in one of their staged battles for their courses. Heck, Fitzroy can’t deny that many of his rages have been caused by Argo being injured. He is sentimental, and sentiment is not a good trait for him to have in this scenario. 

He barely trusts the rogue to begin with, what with all of his sneaking out and such. Not to mention the fact that he was such a jerk to Argo for such a long time. If Argo had any sense at all, he’d detest Fitzroy. Besides that, their lives are headed in completely different directions. Argo’s main motivation in coming to this school, and thus meeting Fitzroy in the first place, was to become a sidekick for the Commodore. Fitzroy only wanted to be able to attend a school where he was not immediately kicked out, somewhere that he could learn to exert enough control over his magic to be a successful knight to Goodcastle. To finally rise above his station in life. To finally not be a failure. 

“Do you think that when bubblegum was created, the man behind it knew that one day it could be manipulated into the most noble of all forms of the product, the hot mint gum?” Fitzroy asks. His arm is still interlocked tightly with Argo’s, which is serving to not only keep him from falling out of the cart but also keeping him very close to the man. A heat is stirring in Fitzroy’s stomach and… other regions as well. God, how long of a journey would this be? Think of other things, you disgrace! He begs of himself. 

“Ah, I don’t know about that, Fitzy.” Argo laughs, nudging him just enough to where Fitzroy fleetingly worries he will be flung from Groundsy’s vehicle. “Not to worry. I won’t let you fall.”

Fiztroy blushes. His emotions are bouncing all over the place, which is most definitely not doing much good for his magical capabilities. He turns his head sharply to the side, looking away from Argo. If he had turned his head back in time, he would have seen the glimpse of pain that flashed across Argo’s face at the rejection. 

“Um, Groundsy?”

“Yes, Sir fancy lad?”

“It’s Sir Fi- whatever. How close would you say we are to Last Hope?”

“Why’re you wondering? That tired of me already, are ya?” Argo whispers into Fitzroy’s ear. The warmth causes a shiver to run down Fitzroy’s spine and he jumps in his seat. From where his hand is lying gently across Argo’s arm comes a sudden burst of magical sparks. Completely unintentional, but painful nonetheless. The grip that Argo had on Fitzroy’s arm moments before is lost, right as the cart goes over a sizable bump in the road.

“Fuck!” He cries out. Fitzroy finds himself landing square on his ass in the middle of a dirt path as his friends continue on down the road. Argo begins yelling at Groundsy to pull over. The Firbolg appears to have not noticed the fall. The future night closes his eyes with a huff before standing up gently and wiping the dirt off of his special cloak, the one that he keeps in pristine condition whenever he’s allowed to remove it from the school’s storage. Slowly, he limps towards the now stopped cart, where Groundsy is looking over his shoulder at the now bedraggled student. 

“I was just about to tell you, Sir Fitzy, that we’re on the outskirts of Last Hope right now! Maybe two minutes more until we reach the center of town.” If Fitzroy were much for cussing, he would scream expletives at Groundsy for those remaining two minutes. How dare he continually call Fitroy by the wrong name, how dare he not notice that one of three students he was supposed to be in charge of had fallen on his ass in the middle of the road, how dare he… 

Instead, he heaves himself into the back of the cart once more as it takes off. This time, he shoots a glare at Argo and decides to sit cross legged on the floor of the cart, rather than trying to squeeze into his former place on the bench. Luckily, his fake, gold rimmed glasses weren’t broken in the commotion. He’s led his friends to believe that they’re first of all, real, and secondly, prescriptions that he desperately needs in order to see. Hey, Argo seems to be full of secrets, it’s only fair that Fitzroy gets to have a couple of his own. 

The cart rolls to a stop a few minutes later in front of Barns and Nobles, where Groundsy bids them adieu and Fitzroy immediately begins checking his appearance in the shop’s window. 

“Say, why don’t you two look around in one of these stores while I find somewhere to freshen up?” Fitzroy doesn’t wait for either of them to respond before he takes off for the conveniently placed men’s bathroom across the way. The Firbolg shrugs. His nonchalance in terms of money means that he often has no regard for the items found within the stores of Last Hope. The last time that they had visited, he had remarked that he found nothing useful within any of the buildings he had been to, which was not a nice thing to hear for the shop’s owner. 

“C’mon Firby. Let’s see what all that place’s got for us.” Argo says, gesturing towards a new shop in the town’s square. 

The pair enter Sea’s Candies, which appears to be a nautically themed candy store, complete with an air freshener that is supplying a constant stream of sea air to all of its inhabitants. Argo takes in a deep sniff and releases all of the (limited) tension from his body with a content sigh. The owner of the establishment wears a compass shaped name tag declaring them to be Aye. 

“Good day to you both, you weary travelers. Would either of you care for a complimentary sample of our renowned Coconut Crisps?” The Firbolg outstretches his large hands and accepts the sweet treat, as does Argo.

“This is… a very good dessert. It reminds me of the dessert… that my tribe prepared the night I was exiled. I am a great shame. Not worthy of such fine things.” 

“Okay!” Aye responds.

“Pardon my firbolg friend, Mr. Aye-”

“Oh please, call me Pop. Everyone does!”

“Pop Aye?” Argo asks. In the back of his mind, he feels like that’s a reference to something that he just isn’t connecting. Maybe when they run into Fitzroy again, he’d know. 

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!”

“Alright then, Pop Aye. How long have you been in business here? Because, not ta brag, I’m a bit of my sea man myself, and if I’d known about this place, I reckon I would’ve tried to work here. Over our last break, ‘course.”

“There’s definitely a better way for you to have phrased that. I prefer to call myself a sailor man, avoid all of the innuendo entirely.” Argo is incredibly confused by the comment. Had he said something inappropriate? “This branch of Sea’s Candies has been open for a week! You kids are from Wiggenstaffs, yes?”

“Yes… we are also from the mighty Thundermen Corporation. Are you interested in joining the company?” The Firbolg asks. 

“Uh, no. Thank you for the thought, but Olive and I are good here. Were either of you two looking for something in particular? We’ve got a little bit of everything here. Licorice ropes, candied walnuts, you name it!”

“Do you have candied limes?” Pop Aye looks horrified at the suggestion, so Argo decides to forgo asking about candied peppers and tries valiantly to think of any other sweet treats he may be in search of. “Oh! Say, you wouldn’t have any hot mint gum, would ya?”

“As a matter of fact, we do!” Pop Aye scurries in to the back of the store before returning with a large package of hot mint gum. “Normally I’d say this costs 3 gold, but for you two boys, I’ll give it for free.”

This was a relief for Argo, who was not eager to try and part with any of his limited funds. The shop owner would never admit it, but the only reason he was giving it up for free was that he had encountered one person in his entire life who ever wished to purchase such a horrid creation as hot mint gum. No one was ever going to come in and try and take it off of his hands for any sum of money. 

“Thank you so much! He’ll love this.” Argo declares. 

“Ah, is this about a lover? Say no more, my young friend.” And before Argo can get another word in, Pop Aye is rooting around for a particular sweet treat. When he finds it, he thrusts it triumphantly up into the air. Argo and the Firbolg don’t give him the enthusiastic reception that he was hoping for. “What? Don’t you think he’ll like it?”

“It is… interesting choice. We will decline for the moment, I think.” The Firbolg comments. In Pop Aye’s hands is what can only be described as a horrifying clump of peanut butter pretzels and chocolate drizzle. If Argo were to take his best guess, he would say it was meant to resemble a beheaded frog. 

It was certainly not good enough for anyone who held themself in such high regard as Fitzroy did. Not to mention the fact that Argo had found himself recently very infatuated with the barbarian and was searching for any way to impress him. The hot mint gum from the night before had brought a smile to Fitzroy’s face that Argo had never seen before, one of true bliss and happiness. He wanted to see it again, almost as much as he wanted to lean over and capture his lips with a gentle kiss. Or a rough one. You never know what people are into. 

“It’s a heart!” 

“Er, not to be rude after you’ve been so kind to us, but it doesn’t exactly look like a heart.” Pop Aye’s humanoid face shifts rapidly.

“What did you just say about my gorgeous works of confectionery?” He screams, his features inching closer and closer to that of a dragon. 

“Run, Firby!” Argo cries out, shoving the package of gum into his pocket and bolting. The Firbolg trots behind him, exiting the building just in time to miss the wave of flame that chased them. After that, the Firbolg halts in his tracks, switching to a calm walk. Argo, who had not bothered to look back, barrels full speed ahead and into a newly freshened up Fitzroy.

The two of them topple to the ground, Argo’s face so close to Fitzroy’s that the genasi’s mustache brushes against his cheek. Fitzroy’s pupils widen dramatically, his eyes locked with his companion’s. His mouth falls slightly open. Argo’s eyes shift downwards to Fitzroy’s perfect pink lips. If it weren’t for the crowds of people that were already trying to help them up, Argo would kiss him right now. 

“How dare you ruin my- is that… is that hot mint gum I smell?” Fitzroy demands, an open palm stretched out. “If it is, you have to give it to me, or you’re the most rotten person to have ever walked the earth.”

“Geez, alright. I just, I dunno. Wanted to do something nice for you.” Argo mutters, running a hand along the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oh Argo!” Fitzroy drags him into a tight hug. It’s the first time that the two of them have ever done it, but based on how much they’re both enjoying the experience, it won’t be the last. Argo is a good head taller than Fitzroy. His heart fills up with a glowing warmth. “This may just be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Happy to be of service, Fitzy.” 

“I have changed my mind! I hate you now, Argo Keene. For the millionth time, it is Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt. I shall allow Fitzroy, but not Fitz, or Fitzy, or any of that…” The trio takes off down the road, towards their real world mission. Fitzroy and Argo walk so closely together that their shoulders bump, with the Firbolg following close behind. 

“Just kiss already.” The Firbolg murmurs under his breath. 

“What was that, Master Firbolg?”

“Nothing.”


End file.
